


baptismal

by seafoamblues



Category: Chinese Actor RPF, EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blasphemy, Blow Jobs, Canon Related, Deepthroating, EXO-M - Freeform, Frottage, Gay Sex, Growl Era or something idk, M/M, Marking, OT12 - Freeform, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 10:23:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8397910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seafoamblues/pseuds/seafoamblues
Summary: Let's wash away our sins together.





	

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted from my [livejournal](http://seafoamblues.livejournal.com/1588.html). you can also read this on [aff](https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/835128/baptismal-n-a).
> 
> exo prompt meme fill for this !!NSFW!! yaoi [image](http://31.media.tumblr.com/6bd402280c4808a978ffa195e2d09bcf/tumblr_mnztux1sNa1r4essfo1_500.jpg). also inspired by these very real, very NSFW gay porn images and gifs: [this](http://31.media.tumblr.com/dee7a9a46b02d9b892a7b74369cdc32e/tumblr_mix15rTnYZ1rs2jpso1_500.jpg), [this](http://25.media.tumblr.com/561485cae07eea6e57fd4a00b68729c6/tumblr_msplwqG2l31rt1kgho1_250.gif), and [this](http://24.media.tumblr.com/ab478477af52a042ab5e9ff5a40a280f/tumblr_mt5c9alDmu1sbgxu5o1_500.gif).

* * *

 

Yixing doesn't usually take baths. But, Kris reminds himself as he hears the running of water, Yixing has told him before that he actually prefers them, since lying back and soaking in the warm water helps soothe his aching waist. It must be hurting again, Kris thinks when he picks up the sound of the faucet twisting to the off position, a dull shriek from behind closed doors.  
  
Amazingly, this is Yixing's first wash of the day, and it's already evening. Typical Yixing, at least in the combined dorm in Korea, takes multiple showers within 24 hours. Now that they're back in their considerably smaller dorm in China for separate promotions and done prepping and practicing for their two comebacks, he must not feel the need for (what most of them thought was) excessive cleaning.  
  
It's not like they ever had time to relax, especially with twelve boys vying for the simulated rainfall on their backs after dance practice or performances. Two or three of them would jump in at once, since the dorm only had two walk-in showers. The last batch could spend a few more minutes than the first and play, since they had rushed the others out prematurely by nearly pounding down the door and complaining about being smelly and sticky.  
  
So there wasn't much time or space for privacy, all though Yixing would occasionally claim one of the showers as his own after he had already showered with the others. He was no longer washing away the day's collected sweat, but perhaps the stress that inevitably came with it. He'd stay in there for a leisurely thirty minutes, maybe meditating, or simply relaxing, and deny entrance from any one of the members by locking the door.  
  
Kris hopes whatever is bothering Yixing will disappear down the drain along with the water and the grime.  
  
He hears a faint splash, the slosh of water as Yixing shifts his weight in the tub. It brings to mind the fact that Kris hasn't taken a bath in a long time, either. The imagined feeling of the wet warmth of the bath water enveloping his body is almost tangible. Kris sees himself slowly sinking beneath the surface, peering up through the gentle ripples his movements create at the wavering ceiling. Submerged under water, he'd only resurface when he felt he could hold his breath no longer. Coming up for air is feeling like being born again: you gasp for the oxygen you've deprived yourself of, gulping down breaths that restore the life to your body.  
  
Yeah, maybe he could use one, too.  
  
"Hey, tell me when you're out, okay? I wanna take one after you," he calls, knowing Yixing can hear him in the next room. He won't be reprimanded for yelling by the other members because they're currently out. It's another plus to being separated from K: less people means it's easier to empty the dorm, and the quiet that can be found with only two remaining people is enough for him to read in peace.  
  
"Sure thing, duizhang."  
  
Kris settles back onto the pillows of his bed, returning to his book. The comfortable position combined with the unmoving jumble of words before him lulls him into sleepy daze. His eyes grow heavy and he feels them closing, unable to flick them back open. It isn't uncommon for him to drift off while reading, especially while lying on his bed, but he reminds himself that he's waiting to take a bath . . .  
  
Aw, fuck it. Yixing will wake him up once he's done.  


 

♱

 

"Yifan? Are you awake?"

Upon hearing his name spoken in the gentlest of voices, Kris swims back into consciousness. It's impossible to tell how long it's been since he fell asleep, but he feels rejuvenated. He supposes the sight in front of him helps a little, too.

Yixing stands in the doorway, a towel draped over his otherwise bare shoulders. His long torso is still slick with moisture, and the way his sweatpants hang low around his hips and accentuate his v-line makes Kris' mouth grow dry. A sliver of his black underwear peeks above the waistline of his pants, tightly hugging his body.

Kris is on his feet and crossing the room before either of them register what's happening. All he knows is he suddenly isn't as eager to take a bath anymore. He hesitates before Yixing, looking down and into the eyes that rise to meet his expectantly. He's too tall and too close (but he wants to be closer).

So he bends down somewhat, cradling Yixing's face in his hands, and presses a soft kiss to his lips. Yixing is still for him, not responding, but also not fighting to keep him when he pulls away.

"Yifan . . . what . . ."

Kris isn't sure where this overwhelming feeling is coming from. By the sound of it, Yixing isn't, either. But that's okay because he's licking down the length of Yixing's neck, tasting bath water and a hint of almond from his body wash on his tongue. He inhales deeply the fresh smell that barely masks the heady and distinct scent of _Yixing_ , his clean skin and dewy hair.

Yixing's breaths have gotten shaky, and he slowly drops his hands and rests them on Kris' waist to keep him from going any lower. Kris sucks bright red marks on the sensitive space between the base of his neck and shoulder, large hands stroking his sides.

"Yixing," he breathes, puffing hot, damp air on his collarbone. Yixing bucks his hips a little in response. The boy's already hard, which makes Kris chuckle. Kris presses up against him, his erection trapped between them. There's a muffled whine from above and Kris swirls his tongue around a nipple.

Kris falls to his knees, released from Yixing's grasp. His fingers glide down the expanse of Yixing's chest as he drinks in the sight. The paleness is practically devoid of flaws, flecked only by the occasional mole, and his abs are softly contoured. Kris thinks back to the photoshoot they had for the repackaged album and how Yixing was shirtless except for the jacket he wore, which hadn't covered much. He had browsed Weibo not long after the teasers and the album were released, amused by the fangirls' reactions. But he had soon become annoyed by the uproar, their screaming and salivating, and closed his laptop.

Thousands of girls could look at and long after Yixing's chest, the source of many of their wet dreams, but Kris could have the real thing. He could touch, he could taste, he could mark.

He kisses down his stomach, closer to where he wants to be. Yixing watches his ministrations, his head inclined, and blinks unevenly.

"I came to tell you to take a bath . . ."

His voice is unsure, containing some resistance. But once Kris closes his eyes and mouths over his erection, his resolve disintegrates.

"We'll take one together later . . ." He murmurs into the fabric of his sweatpants, nuzzling his face into the tented crotch. He moves his mouth back over the bulge and sucks on it, hard.

Yixing cries out softly, wincing. His hands move to either side of Kris' head, fingers tangling in his hair. "I just took one though, I'm already clean—"

"Since when has that bothered you," Kris mutters, kneading the area with his lips. "You're just going to get dirty again, anyway."

"Oh . . ." Yixing's voice fades, and all that's left are noises. No words, just pleasured sounds and hums of praise.

Kris' fingertips dance back up Yixing's chest, and when he drags them down again, nails catch skin and leave behind long, prominent lines of rosy scratches. The yelp it incites has Kris' fingers itching for more exposure, and so he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of Yixing's dark grey sweatpants and tugs them down. He palms over his hard on, tilting his head back and lifting his eyes, searching for silent approval. Kris doesn't need to be told, but he has something else on his mind when Yixing nods his head.

"Is your waist hurting you?" he asks quietly before continuing, thumb brushing the shaft of Yixing's cock through his underwear as he waits for an answer.

"Not at all." Yixing's lips twitch into a smile, and Kris experiences an all-too familiar sinking feeling not only in his groin, but also somewhere in his ribcage. He hastily lowers his eyes and Yixing's boxer shorts, taking his cock in one hand and stroking, kneading his thumb against the tip. Yixing exhales a moan, eyelids fluttering as he rolls his hips forward. The next time he does it, Kris' open mouth is waiting. Yixing gradually slides into the slick velvet warmth, massaging his scalp and humming appreciatively. Soft words of encouragement spill past his lips as he pets Kris' hair, smoothing it down. Kris takes him in more and more with each bob of his head.

Yixing is always so gentle with him, and Kris tries to do the same. But neither of them are easily broken and sometimes Kris can't hold back the urge to manhandle Yixing a little (or sometimes a lot). The other members don't question the scratch marks they might find on his chest and back while showering together, don't ask about the hickeys on his neck and the bruises on his wrists. They ignore the puffy rawness of his lips and the tiredness after a full night's rest. Kris is thankful for that, because Yixing doesn't need to be harassed about something Kris has done to him, and Kris doesn't want to feel bad about it.

Occasionally Yixing will seek revenge, albeit subtly and rather politely. And Kris loves that side of Yixing, the one that takes control when his angelic complexion suggests otherwise. Kris can feel the head of Yixing's cock press into the back of his throat and he chokes around him, his vision blurring out of focus. He recovers quickly, however, and is quiet, the tears subsiding.

"Good boy," Yixing purrs, hands repositioned to hold onto his head. "You take my cock so well. I'm going to fuck your mouth, okay?"

Kris blinks his eyes in understanding, and Yixing unhurriedly begins to pick up the pace, rocking his hips into him. Kris hollows his cheeks, which stirs up a moan in Yixing's throat, increasing in intensity as Kris starts to hum. The reverberations pulse through his cock and he speeds up his thrusts.

"Fuck, Yifan. Fuck." He snaps his hips forward, merciless. Kris' reflex can't handle it; he gags again, louder this time, and Yixing eases off. Kris coughs into his fist, swallowing to try and ease the coarseness he feels in his throat.

"I'm sorry," Yixing apologizes, caressing his cheek with his thumb. He cups his chin and leans down to kiss him, and Kris lets him in, lets him taste himself on his tongue.

"You spoke too soon," Kris says as he detaches himself from Yixing, rubbing his neck.

"Maybe you're just out of practice," he suggests, a wry smirk curling on his lips. Kris thinks his heart's beating a little faster than it should.

Standing up from his kneeling position, Kris pushes Yixing's hips very lightly with his hands, causing him to take several steps back. "Bed." It's an order: Kris reestablishes himself as in charge, regardless of his previous fuckup. He slots their bodies together, pressing flush up against each other, Kris fully clothed and Yixing stark naked as they stumble back toward the bed. Attentively, Kris abuses the lips he is kissing – pulling and sucking, nipping and biting. The delicious moans breathed into his mouth have him craving more as Yixing gives himself over completely, lying back on the bed and allowing Kris to cover him with his long body. Submitting is easy when you don't think much of it and focus solely on the pleasure you're getting instead.

Feeling Yixing urgently tugging at his collar, Kris slips out of his shirt and then his pants. He's about to remove the chain around his neck from which a cross pendant hangs – more as a fashion statement than anything else, he convinces himself – when Yixing closes his hand around it.

"Keep it on."

Kris stalls for a beat. "Why?"

"It's hotter that way," he says, licking around the golden base. Kris shivers involuntarily, wondering if it was some kind of blasphemy to fuck another man while wearing a crucifix. He decides he doesn't really care, because it _is_ hot – Yixing is incredibly hot – and he's already sucked his dick, anyway.

Nudging his side, he signals Yixing to roll over onto his stomach. Yixing does so willingly, and Kris lifts the younger's hips up while he pushes back into his crotch. Kris exhales softly at the contact, the friction of Yixing's ass rubbing against his still clothed erection almost too much for him. He rolls his hips as Yixing continues to rock back against him, unable to help the stuttering moans and pants that escape his lips.

Once he's had enough of rutting against him like some horny teenager, he places his hand flat on the small of Yixing's back to still him. Kris then lowers himself so that he's eye-level with his rear, taking each cheek in his hands and pulling them apart. Yixing makes a strangled noise of anticipation, readily lifting his ass for better access. Kris drags the surface of his tongue from perineum up to his puckered entrance, earning a drawn-out moan from Yixing, who trains his eyes to look down at the sheets. He wriggles the tip of his tongue to tease his hole to open wider, because that's what Yixing likes: he wants to be licked like a dog, feel the flat of his tongue swipe over his hole again and again.

Kris slowly adds his fingers alongside his tongue, briefly pausing his attentions to fetch the lubricant from the nightstand and shimmy out of his underwear. Once Yixing is thoroughly stretched, Kris mounts him and starts fucking him from behind. He initially thrusts at a leisurely pace, giving the younger time to adjust. He reaches around to pump his cock, hard and neglected against his stomach, smearing precum over the head with his fingertips. Feeling Yixing's thighs quivering against his own, he stops his actions immediately, choosing instead to stick his long fingers in the smaller man's mouth. He sucks on them enthusiastically, seldom gagging when they go down his throat.

He removes his fingers and his cock and circles around Yixing, who looks like he's about to melt into the mattress. Kris chuckles softly, stroking his hair in passing, and reclines back on the pillows. Yixing sits up and Kris pulls him close, kissing his neck. Placing his hands on his waist, he angles him so that his back faces him as he sinks down on his cock. His hands slip lower, gripping his ass cheeks as he bounces on his lap, gasping every time he reaches the base of his cock. The little "ah, ah, ah"s he emits every time Kris raises his pelvis as he drops has his fingertips digging into the yielding flesh of his rear, leaving bruises. Yixing strains to look over his shoulder to watch every time he falls, brows furrowed in concentration and his panting turning into low, growling moans.

Kris lifts him off carefully, patting a cheek. "Turn around, baby." Yixing readjusts himself accordingly, sitting on his cock so they're face-to-face. His eyes drink in the jagged bands of scratches trailing down his chest, bright against his pale skin. Kris feels like he's caught fire, bucking up to gain more friction. Yixing starts back up slowly but relearns the rhythm, going faster as he tries to stimulate the sensitive nerves inside him. He rolls his hips in tight circles, his movements increasingly out-of-sync as he gets close.

Deciding to help him out, Kris sits up a little, bending at the waist, and has Yixing sit in his lap, supported by his thighs. Yixing curls into him, hot breath hitting his collarbone, thrusting shallowly. The new angle increases contact with his prostate, and after a few more thrusts, he's coming untouched on Kris' stomach. He sinks his teeth into his shoulder to stop himself from crying out, which sends Kris into his orgasm, groaning at the combined pain and the spasms of tight muscles contracting around the base of his cock.

Kris just holds him for a while, listening to the sound of them catching their breath as they gradually relearn how to breathe normally.

Yixing lifts his head from Kris' chest, looking at him. Kris notices the indent of his cross pendant in the center of his chest, glaring crimson.

"I think it's time for that bath."

Yixing merely smiles in response, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

They don't usually take baths together, but there are always exceptions. There they could wash away what they'd done and shed their sins like old dried skin. Or maybe they'd just do it slower this time, underwater, while Yixing is still stretched and pliant.

Because the water isn't blessed or holy, it's just bath water from the tap, and Kris is no priest or saint but he has a good idea that Yixing is a blessing.


End file.
